


Snow Day

by big_slug



Series: Montauk: Beyond Hawkins [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Good Parent Joyce Byers, M/M, One Shot, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 17:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_slug/pseuds/big_slug
Summary: Joyce has her suspicions.You should read the first work in the series to fully understand.





	Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a tiny little tie-in to chapters 25 and 26 of Montauk.
> 
> Joyce Byers is THE BEST mother. Change my mind.

**January 1986**

Joyce makes sure to be quiet on her way downstairs. It‘s hard because she feels just a little groggy this morning. Nothing unusual really during the winter. Leaving for work in the dark, coming home in the dark if it‘s a full eight hour shift, a day in the life of a working class single mother. She doesn‘t like to give herself too much time before work; Opening her eyes to the blaring alarm clock just to find that she has only half an hour to get ready really gets her going, and besides Joyce likes to spend time with her family, and how is she going to do that if she has to go straight to sleep after dinner?

There is time to get dressed, to get a quick cup of coffee and a cigarette. She is fine with having her first meal of the day during her lunch break. Joyce flips open the coffee machine first, finding it filled and ready to switch on. Jonathan is an angel. The first cigarette dissolves into smoke while the bitter-black essence of life trickles into its can, the second one follows suit, one drag preceding one sip from her mug.

The next five minutes are another morning ritual that never gets old; The search for the car keys, because while a key board exists, it‘s almost always empty, as is Joyce Byers fashion. She knows she‘ll never learn. In the end, Joyce finds her keys behind the couch cushion, which is too much of a cliche spot to check first.

The morning routine screeches to a halt with a hiss and a curse from her, though. „Shit!“ Joyce yelps, so loud she fears it might have woken the kids. A natural reaction, though, considering that she has just been greeted by a wall of snow right in front of her door, an avalanche of which now rolls across her carpet, burying her feet in icy wetness. „Shit!“ Joyce hisses again, quieter this time. In a hurry, she uses her bare hands to shovel as much snow as she can back outside to be able to slam the door shut.

After throwing an entire roll of paper towels on the spot, Joyce checks every window downstairs. There is no way anyone is leaving the house today. There isn‘t one spot where the snow doesn‘t at least reach up to waist-level.

So much for work. Looks like Joyce has a call to make.

* * *

„Kids!“ Joyce calls up the stairs. „Breakfast!“

No wonder the store is closed. So is the photo lab. Pretty much everything in town is closed from what Joyce and Jonathan were told by coworkers on the phone. But apparently, this happens at least once a year and there is nothing to worry about. It‘s still surreal, though, especially with the sun rising. Having snow block half the height of all windows downstairs, leaving only a trickle of light to illuminate the living room, the kitchen, the downstairs bathroom, it feels a bit like being buried alive. After breakfast, Joyce will probably curl herself in a blanket with a cup of tea.

El trots down the stairs first, blinking the sleep away. „So much snow...“ she mutters.

Joyce nods. „There‘s no way anyone is getting out of the house today. Are the boys up?“

„Haven‘t seen them.“ El shrugs. „They stayed up long.“

„Yeah, well, school starts next week so they better not get used to sleeping in. Get yourself something to eat, sweetie. I‘ll wake them up.“

Joyce can‘t blame El for being this weary. The snow pressing on the house from all sides also presses on the mind, and it makes everyone just want to curl up and go back to sleep. Joyce feels it too as she heads upstairs. In front of Will‘s closed bedroom door, she stalls. Without even knowing why, Joyce contemplates just letting them sleep for as long as they want. A hesitant knock gets her no response. A firmer one doesn‘t either.

„Boys!“ she calls out, knocking again. „Breakfast is ready!“

She waits for a good half minute, listening for any movement in Will‘s room, but nothing happens. Paradoxically, Joyce is careful not to make a sound pushing open the door. Her resolve has long started wavering, because if these two are that fast asleep, they probably need it. Joyce‘s brows furrow; The sleeping bag by Will‘s bedside is deserted. It‘s stuffy in here, Joyce notes while scanning the dim room, eyes having adapt to the darkness.

Adrian can‘t be in the bathroom, and he sure isn‘t downstairs either. What‘s it with the empty sleeping bag then? A few steps into Will‘s room, Joyce‘s heart skips a beat. Will‘s blanket is wrapped around a tangle of limbs, impossible to tell where he ends or where Adrian begins. It‘s both heartwarming and heartbreaking, Joyce thinks. Such a peaceful sight, something these two just deserve, and at the same time something most people in this town would condemn them for. There is something Will has been wanting to tell her for a while, no doubt. Something he is too scared to admit, and she knows she can‘t do anything about it. Asking him isn‘t an option.

They should get up. Joyce sneaks past the bed, pulls the curtains apart so the white light, reflected by the snow that buries the world, pours in. Will stirs in his sleep, but that only causes Adrian to tighten the grip on his waist. The pure serenity on both their faces is enough for Joyce to realize she is making a mistake here. They can‘t wake up to find her standing there. They can‘t wake up to find that she was in the room. Sighing, Joyce closes the curtains again. She won‘t be the one to force a distance between these two when they clearly need this. If only there was something she could do to let Will know he can tell her anything.

She remembers what it‘s like being fourteen, finding all these new needs. The days when Joyce could give her sons everything they needed are long gone. While the knowledge hurts, Joyce is glad Will has found someone. Whatever these boys are to each other. Whatever Joyce suspects they might be. The room is lying in darkness again when she sneaks out, careful to quietly close the door. Joyce takes one more glance through the last crack._Whenever you‘re ready_... she thinks. Then, the door clicks shut.

Joyce knocks again, louder than before. They have to wake up at some point.


End file.
